You were oncecurious—well, you were always curious about human behavior, weren’t you?—aboutwhy I addressed people—colleagues and students alike—as “my friend.” I told youthe habit came from a conversation I had with my daughter about how we asteachers constantly gender-identify our students without meaning to. (“Goodmorning, ladies and gentlemen.” “Simmer down, boys and girls.” “Sit down, youngman/young lady!”) While my daughter laughingly suggested we begin referring tothem instead as “assholes and angels,” I chose to use a more subtle term. Everafter that, you greeted me in the halls, on the phone, across the parking lotlike this: “Hello, my friend!” with your signature laugh. Perfect. (Shout out to our mutual friend and dynamic colleague Rob, who hailed me at your memorial service yesterday with, "Hey, buddy, you okay?", his own signature greeting.)

Ourconversations about gender identity and how we should conduct ourselves towardeveryone in our society, including our students, continued for years, on andoff. In the last month that I taught, two weeks before my birthday, you came tomy room with a gift. “I didn’t know if I would see you this summer for yourbirthday, so I’m giving you this now.” The gift: Two coloring books (to keep meoccupied during retirement). One was titled “Coloring Book for Boys,” theother, “Coloring Book for Girls.” We laughed and laughed over this, and I toldyou I had never felt more seen.

Andbirthdays. Our birthdays. Oh, Pish, such a funny guy! You were actually born onMarch 15th. But you told everyone your birthday was the 17th—St.Patrick’s Day. It should have been! Your Irish mother would have been so proud!(Thus your first name, Sean.) But you couldn’t escape your Italian ancestrywith a last name like Piscioneri and your abiding love of bread and pasta. Mybirthday is a holiday, too, but even if it wasn’t, I know you would haveremembered it. Hell, Pish, you remembered a lot of your students’ birthdays!

What was itBen Hoyle said to me at your memorial service? “He made every person feelspecial and seen,” or something to that effect. Indeed you did. Anyone who evershared a restaurant meal with you saw that in the way you acknowledged the waitstaff with kindness and care, always tipping big, always saying thank you,always directly addressing a server by looking that person in the face andsmiling. Classy, Pish, classy.

Thank you forintroducing me to your dad. I loved his poetry, his humble, authentic persona.The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. You were so like him in all the bestways. Your mother was gracious and courteous and kind, and again, I couldalways find those traits in you as well.

Thank you fortaking over where I left off with so many young people who needed extra care.Some of them were knuckleheads, but you loved them as much as I did for theirsweet hearts (even though they tried desperately to hide them). Some of themwere souls that wandered, looking for acceptance, and you took them under yourwing and made them see how powerful and extraordinary they were. Did you seeall those kids at your memorial service yesterday? I know you did.

Thank you onemore time for teaching Maslow’s Hierarchy of Universal Needs. In our last phoneconversation, we talked about it again, how beneficial it would have been hadwe each been taught this basic psychological and physiological structure beforewe entered high school. My students learned Maslow, then I passed them on toyou and their understanding of it deepened. How fortunate we were, at UplandHigh School, to have all those amazing kiddos that we shared! How very, verylucky those kids were to have a teacher who was their friend and mentor and whocared about them going forward, not just for the year they were in your class.

Bravo, Pish.You left an indelible mark on the lives of countless young folks. Youbrightened my life, always making me laugh when we talked or got together. Youcared for your mom when she needed you the most. You honored your father andhis legacy in the town where you grew up. You respected your colleagues, evenwhen you disagreed with them. You were a hard-working, deeply caring friend.Damn, I’m going to miss you so much.

Rest easynow, my friend. I have faith that you are reunited with your mom and dad, andthat you are still looking out for all the students we shared and loved. Keepthat up, little brother, until I see you again and we once again collaborate incaring for them.